


The Principle of Cupid's Razor

by admiralty



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Post-Break Up, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-25 02:42:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiralty/pseuds/admiralty
Summary: Prompt: "Mulder and Scully's first Valentine's Day after their separation."As much as I love angst, and I know @agentwhalesong is after my own heart in this regard, I had a strong desire to keep this one from being straight-up miserable. 💕





	The Principle of Cupid's Razor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agentwhalesong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentwhalesong/gifts).



**MULDER**

**February 14, 2015**

 

The snow fell softly, gentle but persistent. It formed a smooth, clean blanket, a vast expanse of white completely untouched by human activity. It was actually quite beautiful, but as Fox Mulder watched through the window he only saw it as negative space. Nothingness. Emptiness.

It only served to remind him he was alone.

He knew Valentine’s Day would be hard this year, but it was even worse than he’d feared. It had been a year since Scully left him, and this particular holiday hadn’t crossed his mind much in the interim. But faced with it today, he couldn’t help but recall with alarming incredulity that he hadn’t celebrated it with Scully either of their last two years together.

_Twice._

In the grand scheme of things, Valentine’s Day probably wasn’t a huge deal, but he knew it was to her, and his apparent dismissal of it was symptomatic of everything that had gone wrong between the two of them. He’d completely forgotten about it; let the day go by, ignoring it in the midst of his own personal haze, just like he’d done with Scully. With an entire year of loneliness behind them now, he'd been coming to that painful realization with shocking clarity.

Why on earth had she stuck around with him for so long? The guilt he felt was beyond measure, and the worst part of it was that this was something he could not fix. He couldn’t seek out and find the answer to this one. He couldn’t call her up and apologize for something that was a mere bullet point on the massive list of his mistakes. He couldn’t give two Valentine’s Days back to her.

He couldn’t give any days back to her.

He looked around the house they used to share, and even with his possessions scattered everywhere, it felt so empty. She had made this place a home; without her, it was just a house. It was she who had made their unremarkable house remarkable.

Evening was fast approaching, and he was getting hungry. His health had improved greatly thanks to Scully, who had arranged with one of her colleagues to keep an eye on him and monitor his moods, make sure he was taking his meds. But it was tough being stuck inside the house all the time with little reason to venture out. Sometimes the days still got away from him and he’d forget to eat.

He opened the fridge and was greeted by nothing. He didn’t want to have to wait, but the idea of bundling up and heading out into the cold in search of food was even less appealing, so he ordered a pizza from the one place that delivered all the way out here, _their place_ , he thought wistfully, and sat down at the kitchen table to wait.

It wasn’t lost on him how much time he'd spent  _waiting_ in his relationship with Scully. Waiting for her return after she’d been abducted. Waiting for her to die as the cancer slowly eroded her body. Waiting to tell her his true feelings for her. Waiting for the world to come to a screeching halt, which it didn’t, at least not until she decided to leave him.

Waiting for her to come home.

Sitting here alone feeling sorry for himself seemed to be his only option, so that’s exactly what he did. He sat.

And waited.

 

**1 9 9 4**

 

“You got anything going on tonight, Scully? Hot date?” Mulder asked as he shrugged into his trench coat. She closed the file on the desk in front of her.

“No, not tonight.”

“It’s a crime,” he said, flashing her a smile. He was sure that sounded stupid. _Idiot._

She smiled to herself, ever so slightly, and he wasn’t sure how to interpret it. He knew he probably shouldn't flirt with her, but he couldn't help himself. It felt harmless. It was never too overt, and almost old fashioned. Part of him believed he was subconsciously trying to repel her.

“What about you?” she asked. Her eyes were curious, that look he’d gotten so used to lately. The look that meant the impossible might actually become possible.

“Oh I do have a hot date. _Plan Nine From Outer Space_. Just me and the fish.”

She stood up and smiled, in his direction this time. He really liked it when she smiled. She was pretty, he knew this, although he tried hard not to think about it too much.

“Sounds like a pretty depressing Valentine’s Day to me,” she said.

He shrugged. He actually hated Valentine’s Day. When he’d been with Phoebe, she’d not-so-subtly hinted for weeks about some fancy restaurant she wanted to go to, he’d made reservations, and she hadn’t turned up. And every Valentine’s Day he’d spent with Diana had been a disappointment to her, and she hadn’t been shy about voicing that opinion.

“Never really liked it. Hallmark holiday, you know.”

“That’s what people say when they don’t have a date,” she pointed out. He wasn’t sure how correct she was, but he chuckled anyway.

“You don’t have one either,” he chided good-naturedly.

“I never said I didn’t like Valentine’s Day,” she countered with a grin. He held up his hands, conceding.

She stood, walking over to the door, and looked at him almost expectantly. For a moment he considered inviting her over, but he hesitated. It didn’t have to be a big deal if they didn’t want it to be, but how would she interpret such an invitation? It was still so early in their partnership. His mouth went dry and he realized it was because he’d been holding it open the past several seconds. He closed it. The moment passed.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I’m going over to my mom’s. It’s her first one since my dad died, and Melissa’s out with her boyfriend. I just don’t want her to be by herself, you know?”

He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of that, but at the same time he was relieved he hadn’t made an offer she’d have to refuse. He nodded with a small smile, and took her coat off the rack, holding it open for her. She turned, backing into the coat, and as he pulled it up over her shoulders he caught a whiff of her hair. He couldn’t place the scent, but it was just so… _feminine._ It wasn’t as if he needed reminding his partner was an attractive woman, but whenever something like this occurred he felt emotions rising up within him he couldn’t quite quantify.

She turned and grinned again. “Thanks. See you tomorrow, Mulder.”

“Bye, Scully. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“You too.”

She left and headed towards the elevator and he realized if he followed her they’d have to awkwardly say goodbye again. So he stood exactly where he was until he heard the doors close, breathing in the scent she left behind and wondering where the hell all these feelings were coming from.

He shrugged to himself. Must have been Valentine’s Day.

 

 

  
  
  
  
**1 9 9 7**

 

“Hey, Scully. What are you up to this evening?”

He almost said it. _Got a hot date?_ He said it to her every year. He stopped himself just in time because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He had no idea if this would be her last Valentine’s Day.

His own feelings about the holiday had evolved over the past couple years until it was replete with meaning and intent and dangerous purpose. He was falling for his partner, as much as he’d tried to avoid it. He couldn’t just be “cute” with her anymore. Everything had gotten serious. He was in love with her and she was dying.

“Not sure, actually. I have a doctor’s appointment to go to.”

“Can I drive you?” It was immediate and forward, maybe more forward than he’d ever been. But he was feeling a stronger and stronger need to be close to her as much as possible. He feared if he wasn’t with her, she’d hide from him as she usually did. She'd confided in him about her diagnosis but still held so much inside, and he wanted to be there for her in whatever way he could be. He wanted to know what was going on with her. He wanted to know everything.

She looked hesitant, but then agreed. “Okay.”

The drive to the hospital was mostly silent, as neither of them really knew what to say. Whatever news or update she would get this afternoon, it wouldn’t be good and they both knew it. She sat still with her hands in her lap, occasionally looking out the window. Finally, she spoke.

“I don’t have one tonight, you know.”

“Have what?”

“A hot date.”

She twisted her neck to look at him and grinned, and he smiled back uncomfortably. She meant it as a joke, but what was unspoken hung in the air like pollution, swirling around both their heads. He was so confused he forgot how to breathe and rolled the window down, the chilled air cutting across his face like a thousand knives.

When they arrived he waited in the hospital gift shop for her, his cognizance of the seriousness of her illness only further illustrated by the patients he watched filtering in and out. How much time did she have left? How could he possibly know? He looked around at some balloons and flowers, most of which read “Get Well Soon”, but there were a few birthday and anniversary selections.

Suddenly he remembered it was Scully’s birthday next weekend. He’d never really done anything about it the past three years. Now he felt like an asshole. He perused the cards, but none set the right tone. He was pretty certain a greeting card that could fully encapsulate the way he felt about Scully didn’t exist.

He surreptitiously picked up a bouquet of daisies, which he hadn’t intended to buy this soon before her birthday, but he wanted to hold them, practice how it might feel to give them to her.

“Okay, I’m ready to go,” he heard from behind him, and he spun around. He was still holding the daisies and she looked at them. A huge grin spread across her face and it continued to remind him she was pretty much the best thing in his life right now.

“Well, at least you’re paying for them this time,” she smirked. He looked down nervously at the flowers and back up at her _._

“Yeah,” he said with an anxious smile. “Just a sec, gonna grab some seeds.”

She followed him over to the snack section and as he scanned it for his favorite snack he heard her cry out.

“Oh wow, I never see these anymore!”

She was holding a two-pack of pink Hostess Sno-balls. “My dad used to buy these when we went on road trips. He loved them. Oh wow, this brings back memories.”

Locating his seeds, Mulder gestured to the package. “You want them?”

She shook her head and put them back. “No, thanks. I’m feeling a little… no thanks.”

He didn’t push. The chemo had been taking its toll on her appetite. He paid for the flowers and handed them to her.

“Thanks. They’re beautiful,” she said, a bit shyly.

He smiled and took her hand as they walked to the car, and not once did it feel awkward or unnatural.

“You want to come over and… I dunno, have pizza?” he asked after they’d been driving for a while.

“No, thanks, Mulder. I’ll take a rain check. I’m feeling pretty tired.”

He nodded and stared straight ahead, knowing he probably wouldn’t gather the courage to cash in that rain check. When he dropped her off at her place, she stepped out of the car holding her flowers, turned around and leaned down.

“Hey, Mulder,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t believe you bought me flowers for Valentine’s Day.” She grinned at him, slammed the door, and disappeared inside her building.

It was the best Valentine’s Day he’d ever had.

 

  
  
  
  
  
**1 9 9 8**

 

Mulder stared at the computer intently. “Hey Scully, check this out.” She got up from her seat at his desk and walked over to look at the screen over his shoulder.

“Kroner weather,” she read. “Kroner? Where the hell is that?”

“Kansas. Look at this.” He pointed to the screen. “There was a storm with heart-shaped pieces of hail tonight.” He spun around and grinned at her. “That’s pretty unusual, wouldn’t you say?”

She nodded, but then shrugged. “It’s probably some kind of a hoax, Mulder.”

He nodded and turned back, focused intently on the screen. Her reaction didn’t surprise him at all.  “Probably…” he parroted. “I’m gonna keep my eye on this one, Scully.”

“I’m sure you will,” she smiled. “Well, Mulder, if there aren’t any more strange weather phenomena you have to share, I think I’ll head out for the evening.”

“Hot date?” he asked without missing a beat, without looking up.

“Yeah, with my television. Red wine and  _The Big Lebowski_. It’s as un-romantic as it gets.”

"Then, what, a carton of ice cream?"

"Rocky Road," she smiled. "You've certainly got me pegged, don't you?"

He laughed. “Mine's gonna be just as cliche.  _Plan Nine From Outer Space.”_

He finally dared to glance at her. Her face was inscrutable, but he suspected she was probably acknowledging just as he was that they were both intending to choose loneliness tonight yet again.

“ _Plan Nine_? Really? Is this a Valentine’s Day tradition or something, Mulder?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not intentionally.”

She closed her eyes, then opened them again. “Well, if there was a contest for the most un-romantic movie, you win.”

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. His face felt hot. Blood rushed to places he knew it shouldn't, which happened just by looking at her nowadays. This was all getting to the point of insanity. He was so unsure about where they stood he didn’t know how to behave around her anymore. The sexual tension surrounding them at every moment couldn’t be ignored, at least not by him. He was thinking about her constantly in ways he knew he wasn’t supposed to. And he had no clue how she felt about him. Valentine’s Day wasn’t the innocent holiday it used to be. They couldn’t just be together as friends on the most romantic day of the year.

They stood in their office, a thousand unfinished moments, untaken chances, pressing into him like a collapsing star. He still wasn’t ready.

Apparently, neither was she. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mulder. Enjoy your movie.”

“You too,” he replied, and she was gone.

  
  
  
  
  
  
**2 0 0 0**

 

“So Scully, got a hot date tonight?” They were walking through the FBI parking garage. It was now or never.

She sighed and smiled, used to this by now. “No, Mulder.”

“Yes you do. With me.” She looked up, alarmed, and he realized what was meant to come out as smooth probably sounded a bit aggressive. He sucked at this.

“I mean… if you want to. I have... pizza.”

_'I have pizza?' What the hell is wrong with you?_

“Talk about waiting until the last minute,” she said, her eyes playful.

He shrugged. “I’m in high demand, Scully. Keeping my options open.”

 _"_ Right.”

“Come on. I just want to spend the evening with one of my favorite people,” he said. _My favorite person._

_My only person._

She smiled gently, and her eyes spoke volumes. He’d been through a lot recently; his mother died, and he’d finally discovered the difficult truth about what happened to his sister. It had simultaneously been a huge weight lifted and a huge weight pressing down on him. The night he was essentially orphaned hit him hard, and Scully had stayed with him all night, by his side, sharing his pain. That particular pain was still raw, and part of him felt a little guilty for taking advantage of the situation. But he couldn’t help it. He was so in love with her, it was getting harder and harder to hide it. He wanted her nearby now more than ever.

There was a shift occurring between them: slowly, but ever so surely. Their physical attraction to one another was becoming almost impossible to contain. They both knew it, and he could tell other people were noticing, too. Their reasons for holding back from each other were getting weaker and less compelling. And ever since his endless search for Samantha finally in fact came to an end, he found himself focusing more on the things in his life he’d missed out on. He was tired of missing things.

He’d begun to learn to let go, of everything that held him back in his life, starting with Samantha. He was ready to move forward. Now he could only hope Scully was too.

“Well? What do you say, Scully?”

“If I say yes, wouldn’t that be an embarrassing admission of a complete and utter lack of any prior engagements?” 

“Yes, yes it would,” he nodded. “But I’ve already revealed my own embarrassing hand, haven’t I?”

She sighed. “I suppose you _are_ better than nothing, Mulder.”

“I’m touched.”

She grinned and nodded. "Okay."

Twenty minutes later they were in his apartment, on the couch, two glasses of red wine in hand. He’d put a frozen pizza in the oven and she teased him about it.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you had pizza.”

“Well, it _is_ Valentine’s Day, Scully. Delivery is so easy. I thought I’d put in a little bit of effort.”

“I appreciate that,” she grinned, sipping her wine. “Thanks, Mulder. This is really nice of you.”

They were quiet for a moment, the soft burbling of Mulder’s fish tank the only sound. He wanted to tell her not to misinterpret; this wasn’t some kind of friendly pity date. He wanted her to be here because tonight he planned to be brave.

She looked at him and smiled, and he couldn’t stop himself from openly admiring her every feature. She'd cut her hair even shorter recently, and its sleekness only accentuated her face. He took in her eyes as they quickly darted away from his, and his gaze eventually landed on her lips. He stared at them, knowing full well there was suddenly an opportunity he could take. He hadn’t done this kind of thing in a long time, but he could identify a “moment” and this was it. He could stop waiting. He could lean in, finish what he started forty five days ago when that Times Square ball dropped and both their lives took a huge turn. Make this leap, take a chance.

He must have waited too long, because she spoke before he could do anything.

“How are you doing, Mulder? With… everything?”

It was an abrupt change in tone, but he was used to that kind of thing with Scully. His well-being was always first and foremost on her mind when it came to him, and he was grateful for that; of course he was. But any time things got too charged between the two of them she retreated. Tonight he intended to get something important across.

“I’m okay, actually. I feel this… strange sense of peace. Like a huge chunk of my brain has been set free.”

She nodded in understanding. He took a deep breath. “And my heart,” he added, looking right at her. He was shocked by his own revelation in the moment, but it was the truth.

Was he really doing this, finally? He’d chickened out before so many times, but everything felt so right now. Things were so clear to him. He loved her, and he was certain she loved him. When would the timing be right for them? Hadn’t they waited long enough?

She looked at him for a second, then her eyes darted down and she took another sip of her wine. “What are you saying, Mulder?” she said directly into her glass, not looking at him.

“I’m saying... it’s given me an opportunity to reevaluate my life," he said carefully. "To think about not only my obligations, but... the things that _I_ want. For once.”

She paused, but then looked up at him. “And… you haven’t been doing exactly what you’ve wanted to do this entire time?” She said it deliberately and her expression challenged him. He sensed something in her tone that indicated a fair amount of skepticism in what he was saying.

“I thought I was. Doing what I wanted. But now… I’m not so sure.”

She didn’t respond, and he saw a faraway look in her eyes he couldn’t figure out. Suddenly a sick feeling gripped him in his stomach. What if it was too late for this, for them? Perhaps they’d waited too long. Maybe she knew him _too_ well, and what she did know about him couldn’t sustain the kind of relationship she wanted. He knew what she wanted, and he wanted to be that person for her. He’d started really considering that role when she asked him to be her child’s father a few months back. It had been difficult to keep the possibility of simplifying his life out of his mind. But was he capable of being that for her? Had he really shown her any of that?

Could she believe in him?

She took a sip of wine and was so calm, so seemingly unaffected by what he was saying. He wondered if he’d misread her entirely. 

“I’m glad to hear that, Mulder,” she said quietly, looking away again. “I think… that’s a good thing, for you.”

He kept looking at her, imploring her to look back at him, to give him some kind of sign, a green light, but she didn’t. Until she did, until she gave him _something_ , he’d said as much as he was willing to say tonight. The stakes were too high; the risk was too great.

He nodded to himself in resignation and reached forward to clink her glass so she’d look up. “Hey.” She did, and for the first time in perhaps the entire time he’d known her he looked into her eyes and had absolutely no idea what was going on behind them. He didn't like that feeling. “You okay?”

Maybe his fear was clouding his judgment, but he knew whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to happen anymore. This would just be one more evening the two of them would feel and not talk about.

_*ding*_

The timer in the kitchen sounded, and Scully finally spoke.

“Time’s up, Mulder,” was her laconic reply, her eyes full of meaning. There was sadness on her face, just a little bit, but he noticed. Maybe even disappointment. He didn’t know what to make of it. He cleared his throat and set his glass down, getting up to get the pizza.

He’d been waiting for her his whole life. He wasn’t really sure what they were both waiting for anymore. But he’d wait a little longer if he had to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

**SCULLY**

**February 14, 2015**

 

She’d made the decision months before she actually left him. It was the hardest decision she’d ever made, second only to giving her son away to strangers. She would never forget the way he said _mama,_ the only word he knew, as he was carried away by a social worker.

She didn’t think anything in her life would ever be as difficult, but leaving behind her other half had actually broken _her_ in half. She made the decision, then waited patiently for Mulder’s health to improve. She would not leave him in the state he was in.

As the months went by she told herself no matter what he said, no matter what he did or tried to do, she would not give in again.

She needn’t have worried. He never did try anything.

There were nights she’d lay awake in their bed, waiting for something to change; wondering when an answer would present itself. That never happened. She told herself all these years she wouldn’t change a day of her time with Mulder, but more and more she wondered if that was indeed the case. Life had been hard for them, again and again, but it had still always been the two of them, together. Facing their foes side by side.

She never anticipated Mulder would be on the other side.

Year after year their relationship felt unassailable, even through all their disagreements, all their flaws. Her dependence on him and his on her perhaps should have been a warning sign, but instead she saw it as romantic. They only had each other, there could be no one else. It felt like the way things were supposed to be with them.

She never anticipated it would all come to this. She’d never felt more alone in her life than she did right now.

She hadn't been looking forward to Valentine’s Day this year. She and Mulder had spent exactly twelve together as a couple, and he’d remembered ten. Their relationship was so multifaceted; it had been so many different things over the years. Valentine’s Day became important to them because they’d spent so much time avoiding their passion for one another that once they acknowledged it, they wanted to make a point to honor it. Mulder had been generous and loving, and she would eagerly anticipate what he would have in store for her on the holiday each time.

The first year he forgot, she felt a tightness in her stomach, one she could only explain with the truth: she’d expected it. Deep down she feared she could only hold his interest for so long before something else would steal it away, and the fiasco that was the lack of a 2012 alien invasion was that something. She lost him that year.

When he forgot again the following year, she knew the time had come. She packed up a single suitcase, kissed him goodbye, and drove away down the dirt path in Farr’s Corner for the last time.

She'd chosen herself, a choice she hadn’t really made in twenty years. That part felt good. But the part that involved hurting Mulder did not. She hated hurting him, but she didn’t know what else to do, how else to go. He didn’t understand and she wasn’t surprised; maybe he never could. Maybe that was the whole problem.

Now she sat in her tiny Georgetown apartment, mere blocks from her old one, and suffered. She picked up the phone, but hesitated. She knew he wouldn’t call, they hadn’t even spoken in weeks. And she still hadn’t seen him since she left, his face utterly broken and stained with tears. The awful memory was an unforeseen consequence of her actions. She thought of it, of that face, day after day, and she hated it.

She set the phone down. She missed him terribly, but she didn’t want to be weak. It wasn’t about playing games, it was about healing. And she didn’t feel like she was healing. In fact, she felt worse than she did before.

She opened her desk drawer, pulling out a photograph she kept inside, face down. It was of the two of them long before they became lovers, but well past the point where they trusted each other completely. It was just a candid shot of them in the field, standing next to each other, talking. She’d found it in the FBI database back when he’d been missing and printed it out to keep. They didn’t have many photos of themselves together at the time.

She looked at it and her mind wandered to the past, when things were so different. When she thought about the two of them so long ago she was amazed at how they’d changed: ever so slowly, but surely and as certain as the truth. She loved looking at Mulder when he was younger. She could still remember his promise and his passion, all the things about him that made her fall in love with him.

But what she really wanted was to see his current face; the face she missed. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to do that.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**1 9 9 5**

 

Her fingers went to her earring, twirling it anxiously, as she picked up the payphone receiver. These earrings had been one of her few dangly impulse purchases, and she wasn’t actually sure if she’d even worn them before. They made her uncomfortable, like everything else about this evening.

It wasn’t like Scully at all to agree to go on a first date on Valentine's Day, but Melissa had set it up and insisted. Rather than hear her go on and on about how she should be dating Mulder instead, she’d agreed to go on the date to shut her up. Now she was regretting that decision.

She dialed the number and pressed the phone up to her ear, praying her sister was home. After a couple rings she heard a familiar voice.

_“Hello?”_

... _Mulder?_

Her voice caught in her throat, unable to form words. She wouldn’t know which words to form if she could. What the hell was Mulder doing at Melissa’s place?

 _“... Hello…?”_ he said again.

She slammed the phone back onto its cradle, breathing heavily. She felt sick to her stomach and had no idea why. Sure, it was odd, but why did she feel ill about this? She lifted the phone up again and decided she needed to know. She carefully dialed her sister’s number again and waited. This time Melissa answered. _“Hello?”_

“Missy?” Scully said, hesitantly.

_“Dana? Are you okay? How’s your date going?”_

“Why is Mulder at your house?” she asked. It felt accusatory, and she had no idea why it came out that way. But she needed to know.

_“Mulder? As in, your partner? Why would he be at my house?”_

Melissa sounded so utterly confused that in an instant everything made sense. She hadn’t dialed Melissa before at all. Her fingers had dialed Mulder’s number without even realizing what she was doing.

“I… I’m sorry, never mind. Just forget it.”

_“You sound upset, what’s wrong?”_

Suddenly she _was_ upset. Maybe also a bit embarrassed. “Why did you set me up with this guy?” she asked. “He’s the worst.”

 _“Oh, he’s not that bad,”_ Melissa said. Scully could tell she was wearing that shit-eating grin she wore so often when they were kids and Melissa was up to something.

“You knew I wouldn’t mesh with him,” she said carefully. “Why would you set me up on a bad date on Valentine’s Day, Missy?”

" _Maybe you should ask yourself why it’s such a bad date, and go from there,”_ she said cryptically. _“Why did you think Mulder was here, anyway?”_

Scully sighed. “I accidentally dialed his number, when I thought I was calling you. It’s no big deal.”

 _“And, you thought… Dana, really?!”_ she sounded offended and Scully suddenly felt defensive.

“I don’t know!” she replied. “No one would stop you,” she said, and the words even tasted disgusting on her tongue.

_“Dana, that man is all yours, whether you want to admit it or not.”_

“Melissa. Are you going to help me out of this or not?” She was getting impatient now.

 _“I think you should go with your instincts and call your ‘partner,'”_ Melissa declared, invisible quotation marks perfectly audible.

Scully slammed the phone down, pissed. She wasn’t really mad at Melissa, she was confused and frustrated about her own feelings. She realized she probably hadn’t dialed another soul in weeks, not even her mother.

Was that healthy? Maybe she did rely on Mulder too much. They’d been through a lot together, she told herself. He was her friend; her _best_ friend. But he was pretty much her only friend anymore, she thought with a sigh. It was funny; the first time she was really noticing how much he’d taken over her life, her rational instinct should have been to run for the hills. Instead, she felt an overwhelming urge to take her sister’s advice and call him.

Regardless of her desires, she didn’t know what she’d say to him if she did call. So she tightened her unfamiliar earring, adjusted her dress, and headed back to the table, prepared to finish out her evening with the wrong person.

 

  
  
  
  
  
**1 9 9 6**

 

“Mulder, it’s me.”

 _“Oh. H-hi, Scully.”_ He sounded distracted.

“Are you busy?”

_“No, no. What’s up?”_

She heard rustling and a very familiar sound that was most definitely exactly what she thought it was.

“Mulder, are you…? You aren’t doing what I think you’re doing.”

_“Of course not. It's... um, Day of the Killer Tornadoes.”_

“Why on earth would you answer the phone?”

_“It was a reflex.”_

Scully sighed. “I’ll just call back later-“

 _“No! No, it’s fine."_ She suddenly realized if she hung up, she would not call back and this would all become extremely awkward. Mulder wanted to do what he always did, which was to steamroll the hell over this, make light, and move past it. It was how they functioned. So she let him. She waited, rolling her eyes, for his full attention. “Got all the hatches battened down, there?”

_“Yeah, the uh… the wind died.”_

She grimaced. _Fantastic._ Always a pleasure to hear your phone call made a man lose his erection.

“I’m glad to hear that, Mulder.”

_“What can I do for you, Scully?”_

She blanked. Completely blanked. “To be honest, now I’ve forgotten what I was calling for.”

_“Shouldn’t you be out on a hot date tonight? It’s Valentine’s Day.”_

She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to ask me that every year, Mulder?”

_“I guess so, until the answer is yes.”_

She grinned. She never could tell if he was flirting with her or not. They’d always been this way with each other, always behaved comfortably. If there was a line, she never felt like he’d crossed it.

“Well… if I think of it, I’ll call you back.”

_“I’ll be here, Scully. Definitely not doing what you think I’m doing.”_

“I’m not your mother, Mulder.”

_“I’m well aware of that.”_

She grinned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 _“G’night, Scully.”_ There was a click, and he hung up so fast she wondered if the wind had, in fact, died at all.

  
  
  
  
  
  
**1 9 9 9**

 

This wasn’t her ideal Valentine’s Day scenario. If she had it her way, she’d be somewhere else. Somewhere romantic, sitting across a table from some wonderful guy who looked at her dreamily as her toe suggestively dragged along the back of his leg. They’d sip champagne and laugh about things that had nothing to do with government conspiracies or aliens.

If she were being completely honest with herself, the guy would be Mulder and that scenario would never, ever happen.

Things had been difficult lately; confusing and upsetting and downright awful. She felt this way every time Diana Fowley re-entered their lives, but it was getting worse each time. This time she feared she’d revealed too much of herself to Mulder. She was in love with him desperately; too desperately, and she didn’t want to be. Everything about it was problematic. The list of reasons she shouldn’t be in love with Mulder was endless.

Now she was sitting in the den of the Lone Gunmen, surrounded by the smell of refried beans and salsa and feeling sorry for herself. She’d accepted their invitation because she sure as shit didn’t want to stew alone in her apartment wondering if Mulder would call for no reason, as he was wont to do.

“Hey… Agent Scully?” Byers was standing next to her, holding a bottle of wine at the ready.

“You can drop the ‘Agent,’ Byers,” she said. “This is a social gathering, after all.”

“Fair enough. More wine?” She held her glass out wordlessly and he filled it. She had no desire to leave. She didn’t mind it here, really. The Gunmen were so guileless, so open. They didn’t judge, and they didn’t care what others thought of them. It was a refreshing change of pace from everyday life.

Also, she was pretty sure she was drunk.

“Tell me more about this Diana Fowley,” she slurred, then it was out. She hadn't want to involve them at all in this whole Diana fiasco but she'd had no choice. If she'd approached Mulder on her own, without some kind of backup, he'd have assumed she was on some kind of witch hunt. She didn't like the woman because of her personal relationship with Mulder, certainly, but that hadn't even been the point. It broke her heart that Mulder, Mr. 'Trust No One' would be so blind to a truth that even she could see, that even the Gunmen could see.

The Gunmen eyed each other knowingly. Their loyalty was to Mulder and she knew it, but they appeared torn. Mulder wasn’t exactly Mulder right now. He wasn’t here, either.

“Level with me, boys,” Scully said. “You must know more.”

Frohike took a swig of his beer, and Langly shifted nervously. They looked to Byers. They always looked to Byers.

“We only met her a few times,” Byers sighed. “She did not like coming here. She wasn’t interested in anything we had to say.”

“Byers,” Scully said, eyeing him meaningfully. That’s not what she meant and he knew it.

He sighed. “Four years,” he answered the question she didn’t ask. “They were together about four years.”

She nodded. “I see.” She looked up at him. “Why did they split up?”

Byers shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. All we know is Mulder took it hard. Very hard.”

“But you’re saying… that she left him,” Scully clarified. The guys all looked at each other, shrugged, and nodded. She stared down into her wine and as much as she wanted to deny it, everything felt painfully clear. The power Diana still held over him, the way he seemed to behave so unlike himself around her. She'd broken his heart. What if he still had feelings for her?

Scully looked away and sipped her wine. She felt a small pang of her own betrayal, that Mulder would be pissed knowing she was asking all of this. But she had a right to know, didn’t she? They’d trusted only each other for so long. Mulder was bringing a third into their relationship without asking permission or receiving her consent. She hated the way it made her feel.

She wanted Mulder, badly. She thought about it more and more, all the time, almost to the point of madness. She suspected he wanted her, too, but she worried it would be a huge mistake. Her fear of getting into a romantic relationship with Mulder wasn’t irrational. It was utterly rational and that was what made ignoring her feelings for him so much harder. He wasn’t the right guy for her. They wanted different things out of life, she knew it. And her fear was real; that in the end, she could never stack up to the quest.

She could never stack up to Samantha.

Wondering idly if Diana Fowley had once shared her fear, she drained her glass. She couldn’t bring herself to sympathize with the woman who had made her life a perplexing nightmarish ball of emotion from the moment she stepped into it. But she did now have a bit of insight she hadn’t had before.

She stood up and refilled her glass again, aware that she’d either be crashing on the Gunmen's torn couch that smelled like death or calling a cab. Her head hurt already and she dreaded the hangover she’d surely experience tomorrow but it all sounded so fitting for how she felt, so rather than worry about it, she swallowed more wine.

“Thanks for having me over, guys,” she said with a bittersweet smile.

“No problem. Sorry you’re stuck with us on Valentine’s Day,” Langly said.

“I’ve been on worse dates,” she admitted, and Frohike happily extended his bottle for a toast. Byers and Langly joined and the mood was sufficiently lightened. For the rest of the evening she tried not to notice that Mulder didn’t call.

 

  
  
  
  
  
**2 0 0 3**

 

She sat in motel room number whatever-it-was, doing a crossword puzzle, perplexed by Mulder’s apparent cluelessness. She was annoyed at every correct answer she arrived at, knowing the only answer she wanted was one that led to something, anything, that indicated he remembered it was Valentine’s Day.

They hadn’t shared the holiday together since they became a couple, and that was over two years ago. The first time he was dead, and the second time she’d spent it alone with William. Thinking about that now was too painful and certainly not helpful, so she pushed those thoughts away.

They’d been on the run for months now, and as shitty as their situation was, she’d been eagerly anticipating how Mulder would handle the holiday this time, their very first together. He’d proven himself quite the romantic since they’d become involved. But the evening was fast approaching and neither of them had mentioned the date or even acknowledged it.

Life on the run had been tense for them, every emotion heightened. They fought more, when they usually never fought. The sex was intense, more so than ever before. It all felt almost cosmic in nature, as if planets were aligning for them in strange ways.

“Hey Scully, can you do a drug store run? I went last time. We need more toothpaste.” He was sitting at the table by the window and he looked so unbothered, so vacant, that her annoyance was quickly ratcheting up to anger. Maybe getting out of here was a good idea.

“Fine.”

She got up and put her coat on, and just before the door slammed she heard him yell “Get more seeds, would you?”

The errand took about twenty minutes and by the time she arrived back at the motel she was so worked up she wanted to throw the seeds in his face. She slid the keycard in the lock and opened the door, completely unprepared for what awaited her.

The room was dark, save for the flickering light of at least two dozen candles decorating the room. There were rose petals on the tattered motel comforter, and a bottle of champagne in a white plastic ice bucket with two paper cups on the table next to it.

Her jaw dropped and she stepped inside, looking for Mulder, but she heard the door close and his arms came around her waist from behind.

“Hey, Scully,” he growled into her ear in the octave that made every nerve in her body vibrate. “You got a hot date tonight?”

She was so happy she turned around in his arms and pulled him in close, her lips touching his in relief, the corners of her mouth uncontrollably curving upwards.

“I guess I do,” she grinned. “Finally.” She ran her fingers through his hair and regarded him thoughtfully, how he’d obviously planned this all day, how he’d made her wait. It reminded her of how long they’d both made each other wait to be together like this and she suddenly felt infinitely grateful to be here in this shitty motel room full of candles with him, his arms around her, holding her close.

She pulled his face to hers again and poured her gratitude directly into this kiss she felt so lucky to share with him. He helped her out of her coat, tossing it on the chair behind him and held her flush against his body. The kiss soon intensified beyond her control as she leapt up into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He walked her over to the bed and laid her down.

She loved feeling his weight over her; it made her feel safe and protected. His fingers combed through her dark brown hair, which she’d dyed for their own discretion. She held his face in her hands.

“I love you so much, you know that?” she whispered.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Scully,” he whispered back. As she pulled his shirt up and over his head, and her own clothing came off piece by piece, she smiled at the irony that he himself had finally given her the hot date he’d always teased her about.

She rolled him over the rose petals until he was on his back and straddled him, kissing his chest, feeling his readiness beneath her. They’d made love more times on this fugitive adventure than they ever had before it began, and their confidence in their ability to please the other had only grown over time.

It had been freezing outside, and the tips of her nose and fingers were still frigid from the chill in the air, but it was warm in the room from the candles and the heater and their energy. She could feel sweat dripping down her stomach as he took her icy digits to his mouth and sucked, the warmth spreading throughout her entire body. Her eyes closed and she exhaled a long breath, letting him worship her.

After a few moments she leaned over him, her dark hair dangling in his face, and smiled. He reached up with one hand to tuck a strand behind her ear and she kissed him again, long and deep. She pulled him up and gently nudged him backwards until he was sitting against the headboard, their faces now level with one another as her hand reached down between them.

She guided him home, her home, their home, for as long as they had none. When he was inside her it was the only home she needed.

His hands traveled delicately down her back and up, softer than she believed him capable while she was moving against him in such urgency and as she looked into his eyes she knew why: This was different. This was romance. He’d manufactured the entire evening this way.

She felt her climax approaching and brought her face close so he could see her clearly, having learned over the past several months that sometimes simply seeing her come made him come, predictably, like clockwork. Like science.

“I love you too, Scully,” he breathed into her ear, and the sound of it made her break apart, falling into him as she felt him do the same, and they both slid down until they were lying entwined in each other’s arms, her on top of him. They lay there, chests pressed against one another, hearts beating in time.

After a long moment she pushed up on her hands and leaned down to kiss him again, softly but deeply. When she pulled away he was smiling tenderly.

“I’m sorry I can’t take you out to some fancy dinner somewhere,” he said.

She shook her head and laid back down, smiling into his chest. “Unnecessary,” she replied, planting a kiss on his neck. “That was, without a doubt, the hottest date I’ve ever been on.”

  
  
  
  
  
**2 0 1 4**

 

She never looked at it as a last chance, because her mind was made up. She was leaving no matter what. But she still hoped that somehow he’d remember. That somehow he could show her, even in a small way, that he hadn’t truly lost sight of her, of them. Or at least give her something pleasant to remember.

Maybe this hope had been a mistake, because as the hours ticked by and he remained buried in his office, she felt more and more like she should have left yesterday instead. Then at least she wouldn’t have to add yet another disappointment to her ever-growing list.

The sun was setting and he hadn’t come out all day, but still she waited. Maybe she just had to wait for night. Maybe then he’d come out. But the only thing that came out was the moon; bright, steadfast, immovable. Like Mulder used to be.

She put her coat on and stepped out onto the porch, looking out into the bleak night. She glanced up at the moon and thought of the Apollo 11 medallion Mulder had given her years ago for her birthday. The gift that, regardless of his claims, she knew meant it was the two of them in this together, forever. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time and her heart was breaking a little more each day.

She was done, finished. Suffocating. Drowning. She had to go.

Her breath came out in puffs of fog as she wrapped her coat around her tightly and went back into the house. She walked upstairs, changed into her pajamas and climbed into their bed for what she now knew would be the very last time.

Her hand slid across to his side, cold and empty. It had been so long since he’d actually slept in their bed it didn’t even smell like him anymore and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. She cried herself to sleep.

The next day, she left.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

**MULDER**

  **February 14, 2015**

 

There was a knock at the door. _Pizza, finally_ , he thought. He got up, trudging slowly across the hardwood floor of the house he used to be happy in and when he opened the door he couldn’t have been more surprised if it were an actual alien.

 “Hi,” was all she said.

She was wearing a tan camel coat over a gray sweater and jeans, and her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. She wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup and she’d never looked more beautiful. He was reminded of how she looked when they first met, back when they had no idea how much they would come to mean to each other. Back when they were young and stupid.

Now they were just old and stupid.

“Hey,” he breathed. “What… what are you doing here?”

He hadn’t seen her face, actually laid his eyes on it, in an entire year. It was like coming up for air. “I’ve been taking my meds,” he added quickly, suddenly afraid she was only here to check up on him. He’d been in touch with her colleague since she left, who was making sure he remained healthy. He’d never missed an appointment or a refill because he didn’t want to do anything that might add to Scully’s pain.

“I know, Elaine has been in touch with me,” she said. “Thank you, for that.”

He nodded. As always, her first concern was his health, and he appreciated that. Her arm came up to reveal she was holding a bottle of wine and she looked up at him. They’d spoken on the phone a few times over the past couple months and he felt like things were at least getting somewhat friendly again, but her presence in the house was entirely unexpected.

His eyes searched hers for a reason, a meaning for her being here other than just loneliness. Maybe it was the only reason she needed.

“I just… this felt like the place to be tonight. Is that okay?”

He nodded, so pleased to see her he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Just then a car pulled up with a familiar glowing sign on top. A kid of about sixteen hopped out and approached the door with a box.

She glanced behind her, then back at him. “You have pizza,” she observed with a smile. It was the happiest he’d felt in months. He held the door and she stepped in as he paid for the pizza.

He followed her inside and set it on their kitchen table, getting plates and napkins and wine glasses. He hoped they wouldn’t say much about the awfulness that preceded this. He hoped that maybe for tonight they could stop time, forget the past and just be friends again. He missed everything about her; her voice, her smell, her touch. But he’d be lying if he told himself he missed anything more than just her company.

It was cruel that after all they’d been through, making their relationship a romantic one was what had ultimately kept them from staying in each other’s lives after everything turned bad. He wondered if maybe ‘just friends’ was where they might end up again. But he didn’t want that and he couldn’t help it; it was difficult to even think about trying to go back to what they were before. He’d experienced so much of her, and now he had none of her.

For tonight, though, maybe he could have just a little piece of her. It was better than nothing.

“It’s good to see you, Scully,” he said. He couldn’t really think of anything else to say. He wasn’t sure what was allowed.

“It’s good to see you too,” she replied. She sat on the couch a bit awkwardly and looked around. He was immediately mortified the house was such a mess.

“Let this place go a bit?” she smirked. She wasn’t being mean, he could tell, but he still felt a bit slighted.

“I’ve been... spring cleaning,” he explained. Her eyebrow went up. “For almost a year,” he added.

“I see.”

He wanted to be angry, to tell her _you left me, don’t tell me how to take care of the house._ But he couldn’t be angry. He was so desperate to have her back in his life he kept his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry, it’s really none of my business,” she quickly added. “I just worry about you, Mulder, that’s all.”

“I’m doing all right, Doc.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and his mind raced. He thought of Diana, and how that relationship had failed just as spectacularly as this one did. But the difference was that this time he knew the problem was him; that he’d failed her. The difference was, this time he cared too much about getting Scully back to just let what happened slide.

“Our first Valentine’s in three years, huh?” he said sheepishly.

“So you did remember,” she said flatly.

“Eventually,” he replied. He wasn’t trying to be funny. He hadn’t earned that with her, not yet. “I am sorry about that. Truly.”

“It’s no big deal, really,” she said in a tone that indicated how much of a big deal it had actually been.

“It is a big deal. I mean, it should have been. I fucked it up.”

She sighed, and it didn’t matter if she knew he was truly sorry or not. It didn’t really matter how many Valentine’s Days he remembered; it wouldn’t have saved them in any case and they both knew it.

“Let’s not, okay?” she said quietly. “I didn’t come here for that.”

“Why did you come here, then?” he asked, just as softly, not unkindly.

“I just…” she was searching for the words that didn’t require her to tell him she missed him, even though he knew it was the truth. “I just wanted your company, that’s all. It didn’t feel right sitting at home alone today.”

“It’s just another day to me,” Mulder pointed out. “They’re all the same. None of them have you.”

She tilted her head to the side and regarded him curiously, like a specimen under one of her microscopes. He didn’t like the feeling she was trying to figure him out. He missed when he felt like she knew everything about him there was to know.

 “Well...” she began, then stopped. It was dangerous ground, what he’d revealed, and he hadn’t wanted to make the evening awkward. He wanted her to stay as long as possible. “I’m here now,” she declared.

He sat next to her and nodded, pouring the wine. “Cheers,” he said, even though the situation was anything but cheerful. She was right, though; she _was_ here, and that automatically made everything better.

Scully looked at him intently, studying his face, like she was trying to memorize it. “You shaved your beard,” she noted. He had, just this morning, in fact. He was now relieved he’d done so. His hand instinctively went to stroke his chin.

“Yeah, I think the mountain man look is officially out.”

“I like it,” she said softly. “I can see your face now.”

The very idea she hadn’t seen his face in an entire year was upsetting enough. Now he realized that, for her, it had been even longer because of the stupid beard. It was just one more thing he’d failed to pay attention to.

“How’s work?” he asked, trying to banish these sad realizations from his mind.

“Mulder, I…” she shook her head and closed her eyes. “I don’t want to do this. Make small talk. Okay? Not with you.”

“Then what _do_ you want to talk about?” He tried to hide the impatience in his voice, the frustration. He didn’t know how to act, what to say. He wanted to live his truth with her, which was that he missed her so fucking much it cut into his soul every day, eating away at him like acid.

“I came because I want you to know I care about you,” she finally said, setting her glass on the table, and her eyes lifted to look into his. “I can’t stand the idea of you sitting here thinking I’m angry, or that I hate you or something. It’s not true, and I just... I needed you to know that.”

“You could have told me that over the phone, Scully,” he pointed out gently. He wasn’t sure why he was challenging her. Scully wasn’t the type to play games. He knew she wasn’t here to get him back, or to see where they stood, or any of that. Maybe his brief stint at optimism had diminished along with her presence, but he wasn’t kidding himself about that, even from the moment he saw her face at the door.

“I know, I guess I could have, but I wanted to see you,” she said. And then she smiled. He took such comfort in the smile, as if the fear she could leave again at any moment had been quashed. “I wanted to see your face, Mulder.”

He closed his eyes, as if just this small admission was too much for him to handle. It was _something_ , something he could hold onto after he she left tonight and everything would be shit again.

Then he felt her hand on his face. His eyes opened and she was softly running her thumb along his freshly-shaven jawline. He leaned into it, unable to help himself. “You look good, Mulder,” she said. “And I mean that in a friendly way.” While her words said _friendly_ her touch said something else altogether, just as it always had, and while he didn’t want to push, in spite of all his previous doubts he felt hope rising within him.

He covered her hand with his gently, and looked her in the eye, saying in a decidedly _non_ -friendly tone, “You look good yourself.” She raised an eyebrow and he released her hand, figuring this was as good as it would get. Tonight, anyway.

He grinned and she cleared her throat, scooting ever so slightly back from him on the couch with a small smile, intent on blowing right past the heated moment and moving forward towards safety. He wasn’t even disappointed because he was so used to this behavior from both of them for two decades it actually gave him small comfort.

“What do you say, Scully?” he asked, reaching for his intended activity for the evening and holding up a DVD case. “Want to watch _Bridge on the River Kwai_ with me?”

She smiled and her eyes narrowed. “It’s exactly the right amount of romantic, so… yes. I’d like that.”

They sat together, side by side, and watched the movie, but he couldn’t remember a damn thing by the time it was over. His mind was a flurry of emotion: excitement, relief, happiness, dread, but mostly just overwhelming familiarity, her presence a comfort, her scent still the same as it ever was. He smiled to himself in the knowledge that the one thing he’d missed the most he’d gotten back for at least the evening: her company.

“This was nice, Mulder,” she said as he helped her with her coat. “I’m glad I came over.”

“So am I,” he agreed, and as sad as he was their evening was coming to an end, he was happy it had been a positive experience. She hadn’t admitted she missed him with her words, but she’d shown him just the same. It felt like old times again, in the way that he used to have to decipher every move, every nuance, every look.

“Oh, I have something for you,” she said, as she reached into her coat pocket. “But I’m not sure you need it any more.” It was a small package wrapped in red wrapping paper with a pink bow. He took it and immediately felt bad again.

“I… I don’t…”

“It’s fine, Mulder,” she smiled, raising a hand up. “It’s just a little something. I would never have expected you to assume I’d turn up at your doorstep tonight.”

“Can I open it now?” he asked. She nodded. He tore the paper open and slid out the small package. It was a razor.

He looked up at her and laughed. “You really weren’t happy about that beard, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t,” she agreed, smiling. “But I’m glad to see we’re of the same mind on that count.”

He nodded. “Took me a while, but... I came around, didn’t I?”

“You usually do,” she replied, and although he suspected she hadn’t intended it, her words had a double meaning all the same.

They stood there in the doorway, looking at each other for a few moments. Before things could get any more heated, she stuck her hands in her pockets and turned to go. “Well, goodbye, Mulder. Thanks for the pizza.”

“I know it wasn’t a hot date or anything, but… I’m glad you spent your Valentine’s Day with me, Scully,” he said as she started down the steps. “I hope to see you again soon.” She turned and smiled at him.

“I’m always happy to see you, Mulder,” she said. She gestured to his chin. “And now I can see all of you.”

She got into her car and he watched her drive away, this time instead of leaving behind despair, leaving behind hope.

He climbed the stairs of their unremarkable house, walked into their unremarkable bathroom and set the razor on the sink. As he looked at it, another memory stirred.

 

_He didn't remember the exact year, but he remembered they were in their house, years of comfortable domesticity behind them. There was a good decade of happiness they’d shared in that house. It could have been any one of those Valentine's Days._

_They lay next to each other in bed, her head resting upon his chest, his hand covering hers._

_"Do you ever wonder why it took us so long, Mulder?"_

_He knew what she meant. He often wondered himself. "I'm sure there are a thousand reasons, Scully, each of them as senseless as the next."_

_She nuzzled into him closer. "You know, if we apply Occam's Razor, the simplest explanation is that we were the senseless ones."_

_He laughed and kissed her temple. "I think you're right. Let's try not to be so senseless again, okay?"_

_She hadn't said anything but he could feel her smile spread across his chest._

 

They’d slept that night in love, in certainty. He thought of that night as he forged ahead, days turning into weeks, weeks turning into months. 

Every day he picked up his razor and used it. 

He would not be senseless again.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this for my Valentine was a true delight. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
